Let Darkness Come by Angela Hunt Page B

don’t need to fret, kiddo. Jump in with both feet and abandon yourself to the cause. Make your boss and Erin Tomassi grateful that you were bold enough to take the case.”
    Smiling, she drops her head onto her hand. Timothy has a tendency to turn conversations into pep talks, but he always makes her feel better.
    â€œStand back and prepare to be amazed,” she says. “I’m going to do my best.”
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    Briley hadn’t wanted to go to the fundraiser, but Timothy had insisted. “It’ll be fun,” he’d said, his eyes sparkling, “and I want to wear my tux. I want to impress you.”
    So on the second of December she left work early, slipped into a sleeveless gown she’d bought on sale years before, and pulled out a pair of chandelier earrings. She found herself wishing for hair long enough to twist into a glamorous chignon, but the practical chin-length cut that went so well with a suit would have to work with formal wear, too.
    Just after dark, a black limo pulled up outside her town house and Timothy stepped out to greet her. Flashing cameras and exclamations from excited onlookers punctuated their arrival at the Conrad, one of Chicago’s most luxurious hotels. Briley and Timothy slipped away from the crowd and checked their coats. After entering the ballroom, they found their table, number sixty-seven, located in a quiet corner.
    Throughout dinner, she and Timothy made small talk with the other guests: the police commissioner and his wife, the owners of a local drug store chain, a reporter and photographer from the Chicago Tribune . Briley enjoyed talking to the reporter until the woman revealed that she was covering the event for the Style section. “I’m here to check out the senator’s wife,” she said, twisting in her seat as she scanned the front of the room. “They think she’s going to be quite the trendsetter in D.C.”
    â€œI hadn’t heard that,” Briley answered, but the woman had stopped paying attention.
    Waiters in white jackets whisked the empty dessert plates away as a local politico welcomed the guests and made a series of optimistic predictions about Jeffrey Tomassi’s future in politics. While the crowd cheered and clapped, Briley found herself searching the head table for a woman who might be a suitable candidate for national trendsetter.
    Only one possibility, really. The matron seated at Jeff Tomassi’s left appeared too old to be his wife, but the womanat his right fit the job description. Young enough to inspire women of all ages, she glowed with a rare combination of beauty and approachability. The blonde smiled throughout the long introduction and was one of the first to stand and applaud when Tomassi rose to take the lectern.
    During Jeffrey Tomassi’s speech, Briley propped her chin on her hand and studied the aspiring candidate. Tomassi repeated all the promises parroted by most politicians, but he was strikingly handsome and tall, at least six-two. Maybe as tall as Timothy.
    As the candidate promised brighter days and lower crime rates for Illinois, Briley leaned toward Tim and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Did you know that eighteen American presidents were over six feet tall?”
    Tim returned her grin. “And the reason for this comment is?”
    â€œEven Eleanor Roosevelt was six feet tall. Tomassi is tall, too, don’t you think?”
    â€œShouldn’t short men run for office?”
    â€œAsk Napoleon.” She nudged his shoulder. “How tall are you?”
    Tim straightened his spine. “Tall enough to score tickets to this shindig. But maybe not tall enough to run for office.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it. I don’t think I could handle many more of these dinners.”
    They fell silent as a string ensemble began to play. A murmur of approval rose from the crowd as Jeffrey Tomassi extended his hand to the lovely woman at his side. She